The degradation of images and culture is the primary focus of my work. Inspired by Twitter and internet memes, I explore the idea of shared content being a placeholder for human emotion.

My work mirrors the couch I sit on every day and the plants I water a few times a week. The cushion has an indent from my weight and the plants will die without my attention. Objects seen have been touched and have stains from purposeful and meaningful use. My eyes can feel and remember my hands holding the objects. These recorded moments exist somewhere in between the piles of clothes on my floor I ignore until laundry day and the plants I let come a little too close to death. One is trying to have a tender moment with itself and the other is concerned with how

Systems Stenciling Process Tactility Textiles Dancing Mirroring
Reflectivity
Drips Geometry Ephemera Reclaiming Gliding Stacking
Repeating Glowing
Pulsating (Non-) Performance
Temporality Repetition Chaos Sweat
QPOC Representational
Space
Duration Action Scale Units Laminate Residue Spilling
Concentration Community
Justice Structure Embodiment Selfconcept
Utopic Simplicity Grids
Profiles Objecthood #yalepayneter
Display
Presentation Implicate Navigate Integrate Meditate Negotiate

Peeling, flipping, and gashing are in the spectrum of actions I practice in an endless effort to digest my doubts about artmaking. In order to swallow the pleasure, I flip, tear, and dig. The deception of everyday objects having a particular function in the world calms my anxieties while I am out in the open, though it stirs them again when I am in the studio. I gouge, cut, and reorder; it grounds me, reminds me that objects are not sacred. Labor is. When it comes to color, my doubts seem to disappear. Above all else, I see myself as a colorist: I use color to trace the relations

I work with wallpaper that I design and produce myself, both digitally and by hand. I affix layers of wallpaper to a surface, rip them away, and then collage them back on. My process is one of digging and building, cutting and pasting. I continue until the piece feels right. Sometimes it’s when it looks like an actual artifact, a found wall. Or sometimes it’s the exact opposite, a completely new thing.

This work is engaged with the negotiation of multiform cultural identities. I am expressly concerned with exploring the intersection of contrasting cultural information, hierarchies of representation, and conflation in the expression of otherness.

Through a combination of sewn and painted gesture, I explore the notion of ambiguity by capturing the visual moment of movement and manipulation. The cut forms of fabric sewn into the surface of my paintings are legible and abstract at the same time, allowing room for interpretation.

This body of work is made of hundreds of millions of tiny tally marks in ballpoint pen layered over and over again on the surface of a canvas or paper until none of the white support shows through. In order to achieve perfect coverage, I used an innovative technique of attaching many ballpoint pens to an electric drill. This intensive process is what I do daily as an act of self-discipline. Self-discipline helps us understand ourselves and the world we live in. My work addresses the day-to-day issues in the most basic and fundamental way. It begins with one tally mark.

My paintings consist of carefully prepared grounds of handmade graphite paint on which I draw hundreds of individual silverpoint lines. My recent work is concerned with the idea of disruption: a pattern starts out under flexible conditions, and with a combination of intentional interruption and entropy the pattern breaks down. In the end, this subtle chaos creates something that resembles patterns in the natural world, revealing subjectivity through an apparently rigid system. The role light plays in the work similarly references those most conspicuous daily markers of natural

Once you learn how to read, you can’t turn it off. You can’t control ambient reading: street signs, graffiti, posters, advertisements. We live in a world of words. For some, the object environment is like that as well, filled with things one cannot not see: the whorl of a tendril on a rose bush, the wavy edge of a mushroom, the desiccated, dried, question-mark-shaped worm glued to the sidewalk. Those things I cannot not see in the environment, reduced to organic, abstract forms and shapes, inspire my painting and sculpture.